The Trouble With InAnimate Objects
by louise4
Summary: CHAPTER TWO UP! Voldemort is dead and Harry has made the mistake of thinking nothing bad can ever happen to him again. Unfortunately he hadn't taken the Sorting Hat into account and the Hat really doesn't like it when people argue with it. Post OotP Harr
1. Chapter 1

**DISCALIMER**: I own nothing. Damn it.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: Yup, I'm starting a brand new fic, though I am in no way abandoning my others.

This is post OotP and thus will follow cannon up to that point, even if it doesn't seem like it at first.

Hope you like it.

The Trouble With (In)Animate Objects

by Louise

**CHAPTER ONE**

Harry Potter was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and until the third Monday of the school year it had looked like it was going to be the least eventful year of the seven. Which perhaps wasn't saying much, given that he _was_ Harry Potter and the dramas of his first five years seemed positively common place when compared with the events of his sixth, where Voldemort, sick of subtle intrigue, decided to make a last stand and storm Hogwarts.

Sadly it was more reminiscent of Custer than Wellington.

His timing was perfect, choosing the post exam feast to burst into the Great Hall and challenge Dumbledore to a duel. Sadly his spies had failed to discover that Dumbledore had invited several Aurors to the feast to inspire the students, along with representatives from the Bulgarian and French ministries in an attempt to rekindle relations enough to allow for another tri-wizard tournament, being totally unphased that the last one had resulted in a student's death.

Harry Potter hadn't even been needed in the Final Battle, with the foreign visitors, aghast at the rudeness of the attack, throwing curses at Lord Voldemort that, being off the 'New Curses to Show and Tell' mailing list for several years, he had naturally not heard of and thus not guarded himself against.

It was a spectacular battle and one which people soon began to suspect that Dumbledore had anticipated, acting perhaps on information provided by a network of Slytherin students who were desperate to avoid unflattering tattoos.

Dumbledore himself drew on power reserves none had realised he possessed to bind Voldemort's soul to the body he currently inhabited, while the combination of curses thrown by the foreign visitors, whether intentionally or no, reacted with each other to create a bomb effect, dismembering the Dark Lord and scattering his body across the Great Hall, effectively putting people off their desert.

As with any battle, there were casualties. Voldemort was an acceptable fatality, his death being the whole point, but others were not so welcomed. Ravenclaw Terry Boot and Hufflepuff Joseph Moon in Harry's year, along with two Gryffindor fifth year's, Sally Clarke and Jacob Moon, and another two Ravenclaw seventh years, Andrew Davies and Simon Nott, had been exposed as spying for Voldemort and were captured in the short battle. Instead of returning to the school, they were in a young offenders institution adopted from the muggle criminal justice system after urging from Harry Potter, who had finally realised that his status as the Boy Who Could Do No Wrong could be used to improve the system for the better.

Other casualties included Severus Snape, who was hit with several bouts of Crutatious by an infuriated Crabbe and Goyle senior when his betrayal was realised. He had been writhing in pain for nearly twenty minutes before joint action by Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy rescued him, one boy acting because he couldn't stand to see anyone end up like his parents and the other because he loved Snape like a parent. Snape spent several days in a pain induced coma before waking, decidedly frayed and still weak months later.

Dean Thomas was also injured in halting Terry Boot's escape, nearly losing an eye after an attack by the irate Ravenclaw. As a result he was forced to wear glasses for several years so as not to strain his eyes too much.

Ginny Weasley also suffered, though it was more an emotional than physical injury, the betrayal of their friend shaking her social circle and making them grow up before their years.

Equally, Hufflepuff was rocked by the idea that loyalty could be a bad quality, Jospeh Moon's loyalty to his family and their beliefs has turned him into a dedicated supporter of Voldemort.

Slytherin too suffered losses, should anyone care to look that way. While none of their current members had supported Voldemort, the older years were forced to stand against students they had looked up to and depended on when they were younger, Marcus Flint and Kyle Snyder being two such students turned Death Eaters who were unmasked during the battle. Equally several Slytherins were directly opposing one or both parents that day, families being torn apart by the conflict. There were the fortunate few, such as Blaise Zabini and Milicent Bulstrode whose parents had actively encouraged them to avoid Voldemort's clutches, or the even luckier ones such as Pansy Parkinson whose parents had never pledged themselves to Voldemort, claiming that those of pureblood aristocracy should never and would never bow to anyone. But many were forced to choose on that day, and many suffered. Draco Malfoy was the perfect example, choosing his caring mentor over his remote father. Lucius had uttered an almost inhuman howl of disbelieving outrage when Draco saved Snape, turning his wand on his son for the first time in his life, totally ignoring the fact that this was the only heir to the Malfoy name and fortune, and the last tenuous link between himself and the wife he adored. Draco, bent over Snape and trying to rouse him, stood no chance and the curse would have hit him straight on had it not been for Neville, who threw up a protective shield so strong that Lucius was hit by his own spell on the rebound. So you see Slytherin suffered its own losses in the battle, but no one cared to look.

When people returned in September there was a great sense of this being a chance to start again, a time for rebuilding. The older years were more serious, more grown up, Ravenclaw especially, having been shaken to the core by the idea that the top three years of their house had all fostered traitors, and that the current top two years were missing people who should be there, people who were instead in jail.

There was, however, no greater spirit of openness, of sharing, rather each house was trying to get themselves in order. House rivalries had always been important, and rather than allowing the experiences of last year unite them, the older students clung to the old rivalries in a desperate attempt to have something than was normal, that was meant to be that way; it seem that the entire school breathed a sigh of relief at the first sign of conflict between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. It wasn't a matter of life or death, it was more important than that: it was about living.

For the first two weeks nothing remarkable happened, expecting that the final battle had completed what the DA had started and Neville Longbottom had finally accepted that magic could help as well as harm, and was no longer afraid to put energy behind his work. As such he blossomed, and Harry finally saw why he was the other child the prophecy could have referred to, the magic in him shining out, making him far more confident.

The third Monday of the term started off well, sun shining, birds singing and a good feeling in the air. The Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years were particularly pleased that morning because they were to begin Animagus studies and all were eagerly awaiting the time when they would discover if they possessed the necessary ability to turn the theory they would all learn into practice.

Nineteen of the twenty students were all ready in place when Professor McGonnagol entered the classroom carrying something grey and cloth like. A quick glance round confirmed that it was Harry Potter who was missing, a boy who really didn't deal well with Monday mornings.

Setting her package on the desk, the class gasped as it sat up straighter and shook itself slightly, all realising what is was.

"I have bought the Sorting Hat into today's lesson because it provides a useful starting point for identifying those with the potential to become Anamagi. Each of you will come forward and I will place the hat on your head…"

Before she could get any further the door opened and an apologetic Harry Potter burst in.

"Sorry I'm late, got caught up," he mumbled, searching in his bag for his pen – he had abandoned quills after the Umbridge incident and no one could convince him to return to using them and in the end (after several detentions and countless points being removed) they gave up.

"Five points from Gryffindor, please sit down quietly. As I was saying, you will place the Sorting Hat on your head…"

"Sorting Hat?"

"Yes Mr. Potter, its use can prevent a lot of time being wasted by rooting out those without the potential to become Animagus."

"I'm sorry but I can not take part," Harry stood up.

"What?"

"The Hat and I, we had a bit of a falling out and, well, I've sent it to Coventry."

"Mr Potter!" McGonnagol was horrified, clutching the hat protectively, "you have not and will not be sending this hat anywhere, it is school property! Do you hear me?"

"It's a muggle saying," Hermione explained, unable to contain her laughter, "it means Harry isn't talking to the hat."

"That is most bizarre," she shook her head, "but you will take part in this lesson Mr. Potter, personal…disputes with the hat aside," she said this in the same way you say things in your dreams, when you expect to wake up and re-enter normality at any moment because, really, who feuds with a hat?

"Scared Potter?" the Hat drawled, and if Harry had been speaking to it he would have replied in the same way he did to Malfoy, with a half angry, half scared 'you wish.' He was, however, determined not to let the Hat bait him, he was going to rise above it. "Hero of the wizarding world scared of what's inside his head?"

Had he been talking to the hat he would have observed that it really was scarily like Malfoy at times, but then again it would probably see that as a compliment.

"Aw, don't be like that Harry," it was coaxing now, less sleazy and attempting friendliness, "you know I only say it for your own good."

Harry just glared at the Hat, his face set in an expression that all recognised as his 'really angry' face.

The class were watching the two eagerly; heads moving back and forth like the spectators at Wimbledon, inwardly speculating as to what exactly the Hat could be referring to.

"Come on Harry," the Hat was still coaxing, "just sit down, let me take a little tour inside. Maybe you've changed, maybe what was then isn't anymore, maybe…"

"…maybe I should introduce you to a pair of scissors," Harry fumed, causing McGonnagol to utter a small, ungainly shriek. "There is a reason hat's are _inanimate_ objects, after all."

"Now, now Harry, anger is the last refuge of a desperate man," the Hat scolded, smiling slightly.

"No, that would be sarcasm. Anger is a positive solution and a way to move forward," Harry smirked, waving a newly conjured pair of scissors at the Hat.

"Now Harry, you wouldn't want to force my hand now, would you? You are showing some decidedly-"

"Don't say things like that," Harry snarled, "I am not now nor have I ever been one of them."

"But you could be and you'd do it so well."

"Wouldn't"

"Would"

"Wouldn't"

"Would"

"Wouldn't"

"Would…oh come on Harry, as much as I like this familiar banter, couldn't you just try it, for just a week?"

"Oh please, it would take me a week to be able to sleep at night without fear of being murdered in my bed."

The class may not have the first idea just what the debate was about but they could all see that Harry had just walked straight into a trap there.

"Oh, so you'd rather spend a month there, then. Nice to see you are finally coming around to my way of thinking," every word was laced with smirking satisfaction – who would have guessed a hat could be so expressive? "That only leaves one thing for me to say…"

"…don't you dare…" Harry yelled, desperate now.

"…Slytherin."

Harry groaned, body slumped in defeat.

"You bastard."

"It's for your own good, Harry," the Hat comforted him.

"How? In first year, maybe, but I'm a Gryffindor, I can't learn anything from them, excepting new and exciting ways of running away…" suddenly he perked up, "Dumbledore won't let you…"

"Oh I assure you he will," the Hat grinned, "in this respect I have the power. It's already been arranged."

"I refuse."

"You've got no choice Harry, look at your robe."

Slowly Harry looked down, the rest of the class following his gaze. Where the red and gold lion, the emblem of Gryffindor had sat, there was now a snake on a green and silver background.

"What the…" Draco Malfoy snarled.

"The Hat finally got its way," Harry met his gaze, matching expressions of dismay on their faces, "I'm finally a member of Slytherin."

**END CHAPTER ONE**

Well, what did you think? Should I continue?

Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCALIMER**: I own nothing. Damn it.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: Second chapter. If the characterisations seem a little…off, please trust me, it will all be explained!

Again, this is post OotP and thus will follow cannon up to that point, even if it doesn't seem like it at first.

**CHAPTER TWO**

"No. Fucking. Way." Draco declared with ill concealed fury. "There is absolutely no level on which you are even _thinking_ about setting foot in our common room. And you," he rounded on the hat, "you jumped up little…hat. Have you completely cracked? This is Harry Potter, Gyffindor Golden Boy, Boy Who Lived…need I go on? I mean, seriously," lost for words, Draco just stood there gaping indignantly at the hat, a mixture of fury and disbelief playing across his face.

"Well he took that well," if the hat had an eyebrow to raise, it would have done. "I assure you Mr Malfoy, I have not taken leave of my senses. You've known Mr Potter for over six years now, I'm sure you can understand how he could drive me to such extremes."

Draco was nodding sympathetically now, "well yes, I mean he is incredibly…wait a moment, I am not agreeing with a _hat_. No. This is not happening."

"To bloody right it's not," Harry recovered enough to speak. "I'm telling Professor Dumbleodre," he announced at the same time as Draco declared, "I'm telling Professor Snape."

Glaring at each other, the two boys rushed out of the classroom, leaving eighteen stupefied pupils, and one teacher who was too busy worrying about how all this drama would affect her house Quidditch record to consider the effect it was currently having on her lesson.

The stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office was having a bad day. The good man himself had recently discovered chewing gum and had taken to leaving old pieces behind wherever he was when he finished with them (because everyone knows you don't swallow chewing gum, even if you are one of the most powerful wizards in the world). And unfortunately for the poor gargoyle, Dumbledore usually got through at least one piece in the walk from his office to the gargoyle. As a result, the statue was rather covered at the moment.

And if he had thought that was bad, he was currently being reduced to rubble by an irate Boy Who Lived.

"Let me through, I mean it," Harry was shouting, kicking and clawing at the statue, "I know you're up there Dumbledore, don't think you can hide. I won't let you ignore me, I am not accepting this…"

The boy had been going on like this for sometime now, and as it was more or less inanimate, the statue had no means of either defending itself or letting Harry know that actually, Dumbledore wasn't in his office, actually he was standing behind Harry, attempting to blow bubbles while he watched him take his rage out on a statue.

When Harry finally stopped fighting (for the most part) and slid to a sitting position in front of the statue muttering "I won't give up, I won't give up" under his breath, Dumbledore finally spoke.

"Something vexes thee?" Jumping Harry looked up and into twinkling blue eyes that had never been more annoying. "Oh, I see the Hat caught up with you then."

"It can't do this to me. Please."

"Come now Harry, it's not that bad."

"But I don't _belong_ in Slytherin. You said it was our choices that defined us, and I chose Gryffindor. You said."

"It was what you wanted, need to hear, my boy. And now you need to start looking beyond yourself, you need to see something else of the world. Life is hard Harry, we don't always get to do what we want," Dumbledore looked seriously at the pouting boy before relaxing his features into their normal joviality. "Come now, it is only a month is it not? Thirty days. I'm sure it won't be as bad as you imagine. And remember, if it annoys you, just think how Severus will be feeling."

Cheering slightly, Harry grinned. It was always nice to piss Professor Snape off.

No sooner was the thought forming than the man himself swept round the corner, a smug looking Draco Malfoy at his heels.

"Professor Dumbledore, I assume Potter has told you what has happened. This is utterly unacceptable. The hat as gone too far this time. Surely you must concede now that it is an antiquated system that needs updating."

"Not at all Severus. Mr Potter is the one that tried to change the system, the Hat was just redressing the balance."

"The boy is not a Slytherin, will never be a Slytherin. He does not belong in my house, and will not _fit_ in the dormitory."

"Good point, Severus. Come up to my office, and we will persuade the castle to switch itself around to make room for one more in the dormitory for a month. It is so nice when one's staff supports one.

With no real choice, Snape adopted his best 'the old fool's lost it this time' look, and trailed upstairs after Dumbledore, wincing in disgust as the man removed the chewing gum from his mouth and stuck it to the back of the stone gargoyle.

As the gargoyle swung back over the entrance to the Headmaster's study, Draco and Harry were left alone in the corridor.

"This is _not_ happening," Harry declared firmly, spinning on his heel and stalking determinedly away from Draco. His robes, he reflected sadly, had not flared out as Sanpe's would do every time _he_ spun on _his_ heel, nor was he actually going in the right direction, but he was storming off and doubling back would ruin the impact.

Harry finally made it to the Great Hall after several wrong turns and made his way over to Ron and Hermione, who were eating lunch far too calmly for his tastes. Sitting down, he let out a very exhausted, put upon sigh, looking at them both, expressively demanding sympathy.

It didn't exactly work.

Hermione raised her eyes from her book for all of two seconds, and Ron simply reached for the crisps without commenting.

Harry cleared his throat meaningfully and tried again. "I said…" he tried again, once again sighing expressively.

Hermione put down her book, nudging Ron, who turned from his contemplation of Susan Bones and gave his attention over to his best friend.

"What did Dumbledore say?"

"He's up there at the moment, discussing sleeping arrangements with Snape," which answer nearly killed Ron, who promptly choked on his lunch. "God Ron, they're trying to convince the castle to expand and make room for me in the dungeons."

"Sorry, nasty visual for a moment," Ron shuddered, taking a long drink of water in an effort to dislodge the remaining food from his throat.

"So you're dungeon bound tonight then Harry?" Hermione asked, "Do you need a hand packing your stuff?"

"What?"

"Well you won't be able to pop up to the tower whenever you need something," she argued practically, "not only is it horribly impractical, you're a Slytherin now, you've got to stick to your own common room."

"I. Am. Not. A. Slytherin." Harry ground out through gritted teeth.

"You OK mate?"

"No Ron, I am not OK…I'm a fucking Slytherin for the next month. Of course I'm not OK."

"It's not the end of the world mate."

"Um hello, SLYTHERIN. Evil house? Home of Draco Malfoy? House of general, all round bastards who, I don't know, want to kill me? Ring any bells?"

"Come on Harry, Ron's right, it's not exactly the end of the world now, is it?" Hermione soothed, "you've only got to spend a month there. And I don't think they really want to kill you," this last was said in Hermione's best 'I've told you a million times not to exaggerate' voice.

"Of for the love of…" Harry built himself up for the mother and father of all rants, only to be cut off by Ron, who was done with lunch and now ready to express an opinion.

"Harry, your view of the Slytherin's isn't exactly the most…stable, is it," he began carefully. "Think about it rationally for a moment and you would remember that it is no longer a Death Eater house, if it ever was. They _helped_ us defeat Voldemort, Malfoy stood against his own father. You can't exactly judge a whole house against a few squabbles you had with Malfoy when you were eleven."

"Have you completely lost your marbles Ron? We hate them, _you_ hate them."

"He's right Harry, you can not hang onto this childish rivalry with Malfoy, you're housemates now, you have to work together. Plus all the fighting is kind of embarrassing."

"It is not some childish rivalry. We HATE each other Hermione, he is my NEMESIS."

"Malfoy isn't your nemesis, Voldemort was. You can't have two nemesis' Harry – there's a reason no one knows the plural of the word."

"Voldemort wasn't my…" Harry trailed off under the twin glares of Ron and Hermione. "You just don't understand."

Harry left his friends sitting at the Gryffindor table and headed out to the Quidditch pitch.

"He's not dealing very well with this is he?"

"Not really, but he'll get over me. Do you think Susan would go out with me?"

"Ron! I thought you were seeing Lavender."

"That was last week."

"Oh, in that case sure, why not?"

Harry spent the rest of the day flying. He ignored Madam Hooch when she came out to give the first years their weekly flying lesson, simply flying higher and yelling that they could fly round him. He ignored the Ravenclaw Quidditch team when they came out to practice, he just closed his eyes and promised he wouldn't watch any of their new tactics. He ignored Ron calling him to tea, and ignored his own hunger, having concluded that starvation would be more fun than eating at the Slytherin table.

He wasn't able to ignore it, however, when Professor Snape came out and knocked him off his broom with a well timed expelliarmus.

Even as he plummeted towards the ground he felt a smug satisfaction that this proved that all Slytherins were, in fact, evil and nasty and he simply couldn't live with them.

He even felt a slight disappointment as Snape slowed his fall and cast several cushioning charms to ensure he came to no harm.

"Now the hissy fit is over, Mr Potter, all students should be in their common rooms for nine o'clock, and as it is eight-fifty, you better come with me and I'll show you to your new quarters." Despite all his talk of rebellion, Harry followed Snape without argument, although he was mentally kicking and screaming. "For heaven's sake boy, ward your mind, your grievances are deafening." Snape having an access all areas pass into his mind made him reluctant to challenge the older man, and Harry quickly built up his occulmancy walls, walls which had gone unneeded since Voldemort's death.

"Remember, left, left, right, left, right, left and here we are," Snape led Harry quickly through the maze of corridors down to the Slytherin common room, coming to a halt outside a portrait of Salazar Slytherin. Snape appeared to think for a moment before finally saying, "Vinci."

The portrait swung open and Harry had his first glimpse of the Slytherin Common room in nearly five years.

Looking round, Harry noticed with smug satisfaction that the Slytherin common room was almost exactly as he had expected it to be. It was a large room with bare stone walls and no windows. Candles flickered throughout the room, giving the place a gothic, murder mystery feel. The stone floor had a few carpets on, but the main feature of the room was the large fireplace. Large sofas were gathered around the fireplace, and behind these were tables for pupils to do their school work on. There was little colour to the room, a stark contrast to the cheerful red of the Gryffindor common room. The thing that struck Harry most, however, was the noise. Or rather, the lack of it. The noise level of the common room made the library seem noisy, and there was an almost eerie silence, especially to someone used to the raucous Gryffindor common room.

His eyes travelled from the fixtures and fittings to take in the Slytherins that now surrounded him.

Meek first and second years were scattered around the outskirts of the common room, not raising their eyes to look at him, acting as if he was not there. Closer to the centre of the room, bolder third and fourth years were sneaking looks at him, eyes resting on him for mere seconds before darting away as they whispered urgently with their housemates, undoubtedly discussing him. The lofty fifth and sixth years stared at him blatantly and shamelessly from their situation near the fire, assessing him and almost daring him to look away first. Finally he found the seventh years, occupying the best seats, the comfiest and the closest to the fire, without being too close and thus too hot. Draco Malfoy sat in the centre, Pansy Parkinson next to him, and both showed awareness of their position as King and Queen of Slytherin, holding court with a seriousness that belied their young age. The seventh years were ignoring him, much like the first and second years, but without betraying any sense that there was anything to ignore – they were simply doing what they always did, uncaring of the disruption heading their way.

Following Snape, Harry was forced to walk through to the centre of the common room, passing under the gaze of every student in it, being paraded as the outsider that he was. Snape came to a halt in front of Draco, who was calmly discussing arithmancy with Theodore Nott, no sign of animation or interest on his emotionless face. Noticing his head of house as if for the first time, Draco finished making his point before turning calmly to the older man.

"Good evening Professor."

"Good evening Mr Malfoy," Snape returned formally, "I trust your evening is going well."

"Most pleasantly, sir."

"I which case I am loathed to interrupt your pleasure, but I have bought your new housemate with me and he needs an introduction to Slytherin."

Harry narrowly suppressed a whimper at the sinister sounding words, feeling rather dazed at the formal exchange between the two Slytherins. Ignoring him, Draco scanned the room quickly, eyes settling finally on a sixth year Harry vaguely recognised, "Marshall, come here."

Much to Harry's amazement the younger boy obeyed, silently leaving his friends to stand before Draco, apparently waiting for further instructions. Harry turned to look at Snape, wondering if he had any reaction to Draco so easily ordering his housemates about. Snape cleared his throat expressively and Draco pouted, "fine, Marshall, you can go."

Without speaking the younger boy returned to his friends and Draco's gaze fell next upon his own friends, "Blaise, show Potter around."

Snape nodded his approval at the alteration and Harry followed dumbstruck as the dark haired Slytherin led him out of the room.

**END CHAPTER TWO**

Thanks to all those who reviewed: Fawna, QueenB23, anabel11, midnytestars, a7xroxmysox, BlackCrimsonRose, All-Knowing Alien 2, Akume and Silver Tears 11

**Isis**: yeah there will be slash (or at the very least pre-slash).

**SporkadelicAsh**: glad you like this. As for _Deal_, it'll be completed at some point…I promise!

**Smurff**: Harry wasn't wearing the Hat, rather it was a continuation of an ongoing argument between the two. The Hat didn't need to judge Harry because it already has judged him. (And that's all I'm saying for now!)

**HyperBunnyAttack**: slash? Hell yeah!


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